The throne is the realm's treasure,
Only the wise can steady the state.
The Yin way waned yet persisted,
Until King Zhou seized the crumbling line.
Mountains roared, ghosts wailed anew,
Earth split, rivers also quaked.
Lewdness and flattery reigned,
Slaughter consumed the finest talents.
The lone minister, the emperor's uncle,
Advanced through loyalty and integrity.
His jade bed grew more pure,
Bronze pillars blazed with heat.
He served the state through three reigns,
Seeing the truth in a single glance.
The last tyrant, wild and mad,
Nursed rage and drew his bright blade.
This man, ever more loyal and forthright,
In anger pressed on more bravely.
Clutching his chest, he vowed to fall,
Knowing death, he did not begrudge it.
Alas! His heart was cut out,
His wise wife followed in death.
The Black Dragon bared twin bones,
The great peak crumbled, a lone cliff.
King Wu of Zhou camped at Shang's outskirts,
Pitying the unburied wronged bones.
With sharp swords he purged the remnants,
How swift was the retribution!
He halted his carriage, sang to the noble spirit,
Ordered his men to face the coffin.
From then on, bearing this hidden cruelty,
Alas, how fleet the flowing light!
The mound was covered with old weeds,
The altar steps edged with drifting phosphorescence.
The Zhenguan era warned against northern campaigns,
The emperor remembered loyalty and faith.
The desolate tomb sheltered grass and trees,
Carved rafters blown to ashes.
Ages passed, honor grew greater,
His body fallen, his fame soared higher.
The emperor's words inscribed on stone,
State offerings arrayed with fragrant sacrifice.
Magnificent, the martyr's portrait!
His rare heroism follows through a thousand ages.